Hush
by Empatheia
Summary: [Izayoi x Sessmom] A little is better than nothing.


**A/N: **Got inspired at work _again_. Why don't I ever get inspired at home anymore? Huh?

Anyways, I rather like this story despite its having been written in two minute increments while I peered around in paranoia for evidence of my boss. I'm not usually much of a yuri fan, but this story was just asking to happen, and since no one volunteered to write it for me... XD

I hope you enjoy this.

**xoxoxoxox**

_**Hush**_

**xoxoxoxox**

There was a line, once.

It was a very strange line. It was very thin, for one, so thin it was nearly invisible, though everyone knew it was there. If one looked closely, one could see that it was red as blood, the blood that flowed through both of their veins. The line moved, sometimes, as well.

Strangest of all, it was a line that simultaneously forbade the crossing of it, and demanded it.

They sat on opposite sides of the quiescent morning garden and said nothing, staring fixedly ahead in the pretense of watching their sons play.

Despite the physical difference between them, their sons were warped mirror-images of each other, both flying cornsilk hair and flashing golden eyes, both possessed of the same deep, irreparable wound.

It had been several years since the death of the Inu no Taisho, and Izayoi and Mai had not spoken more than three words to each other at a time since then.

Izayoi was fairly certain Mai hated her. Mai was fairly certain she hated Izayoi. It was a comfortable arrangement that neither of them felt any inclination to upset. They lived in the same palace, ate at the same table, breathed the same heavy air, but never shared anything more than their presences with each other. An uneasy truce, but that was all there was and all they could find between them.

What does one say to the person who holds half the heart of one you love beyond reason?

Nothing, of course. There is nothing to say.

Sesshoumaru, colder and brighter than the edge of his blade, was practicing katas. That was his way of playing, as he would never condescend to scrabble in the dirt as his rambunctious younger half-brother was currently doing.

"A worm!" Inuyasha cried gleefully, brandishing the squirming slimy rope. "See, 'Maru?"

"Do not call me that," the pureblood said coolly, not interrupting his exercise even to look Inuyasha's way.

Crestfallen, the _hanyou _slumped and stared forlornly at the feebly struggling worm. Only for a moment, however. Then, as was his wont, his mischievous streak took over and he began to stealthily creep closer to Sesshoumaru, who either did not notice or did not care.

When he had come within a couple feet, Sesshoumaru suddenly paused. Inuyasha froze.

Izayoi and Mai watched with amusement from their opposing positions, never suspecting where the play was going. They would rough-house, they did that often, Inuyasha would be wounded and Sesshoumaru smug. It was a common occurence and nothing to worry about, and so neither of them did anything, merely sat and watched as usual.

Sesshoumaru continued his exercise, and Inuyasha resumed his prank. Finally getting within arm's length, the half-demon boy smiled wickedly and pounced, pulling the neck of the shocked Sesshoumaru's _haori _open and dropping the filthy invertebrate down the length of his pristine spine.

Izayoi leapt to her feet the moment she saw the look in Sesshoumaru's eyes as he turned towards her son.

Being human, she knew she would never make it in time to save his life but her instincts as a mother demanded that she try. There was another line, between Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha, that had just been crossed, and terrible things happened when lines got crossed that were never meant to.

Terrified and weeping, she stumbled and shuffled towards her son, encumbered by the heavy layers of silk she now cursed adopting the wear of. "No, no, no!" she cried, knowing that the icy firstborn son of her demon lover would never listen to a human woman, let alone the one who had corrupted his father. "Please, Sesshoumaru, don't!"

She would never make it. Not a chance. Despair smothered her and slowed her frantic half-steps yet further. She choked on it, on her tears, on the air.

Sesshoumaru, completely composed despite the fury evident on his face, unsheathed his bilious green claws and slashed at Inuyasha. The claws caught him full across the face, opening gaping bloody furrows that quickly turned a sickening shade of excremental brown-- the effects of the poison mixing with his blood.

"_No!_" Izayoi shrieked, seeing the end of her only reason for living.

And then, inexplicably, there was a tall silver-haired woman holding each child up by the backs of their _hakama, _safely separated. Inuyasha howled and spat. Sesshoumaru merely looked vaguely nonplussed.

"Go to your chambers, Sesshoumaru," Mai said quietly. "You've done quite enough for today." With that, she set her son back down on the ground. Without a word or a backward glance, he strode out of the gardens. "Hold still, Inuyasha," she said gently. "I have to neutralize the poison or you will die."

Izayoi stood motionless and quivering, frozen in place. She had not seen Mai move, and was still having difficulty assimilating the fact that her... rival? sister-in-law? had rescued_ her _son and was now in the process of saving his life. She did not understand.

Mai did something that Izayoi could not see, and then the wounds on Inuyasha's cheek were once again running healthy red and healing visibly before their eyes.

"There you are. Next time, do be more careful about provoking Sesshoumaru. You know he doesn't have a sense of humour."

Amazed, Izayoi realized that Mai was being kind. She could have said any number of derogatory things about Inuyasha's battle prowess, but she hadn't-- instead, she had placed the fault evenly on both their heads.

"Inuyasha, thank the Lady Mai. She saved your life, you know," she managed to say.

Inuyasha sulkily complied. "Thank you, Lady Mai." He looked at his mother. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, but if you're going to play with Sesshoumaru, please be careful."

"I'm not. He's a meanie."

"Inuyasha!" Izayoi gasped. "Be polite!"

The red-clad boy-child made a rude gesture and bolted around the hedge, off to new adventures.

For a long time, Mai and Izayoi merely stood looking at each other. Words were useless, they had both decided some time ago, and at the moment they had no need for them. The silence was golden.

Mai was fairly certain Izayoi hated her. Izayoi had been fairly certain she hated Mai. She had thought Mai to be a cold, aloof, arrogant woman who preferred her own company to that of others. This was not entirely incorrect. However, it was also not entirely correct.

There was a streak of passion in Mai which ran deep and hot. When her mate had died, she had doused it in the chill waters of her sorrow and refused to allow it resurrection.

Izayoi _was _passion, with a streak of sobriety that had been ruling her since her lover's death.

"You didn't have to do that," she said quietly, the silence somehow painful despite its golden hue.

Mai gazed tranquilly back at her with matching eyes. "I despise you," she said, and her voice was so high and cold it hurt Izayoi's teeth. But then, her eyes softened, _all _of her softened, and she continued: "... but not _that _much."

"Thank you," Izayoi whispered, dark hair falling forward to curtain her face.

Suddenly, Mai was all hard edges again, brittle and tight. "Don't," she snapped. "Do you think I do not remember that Inuyasha is _his _as well, not just yours? I _loved _my mate, human, and I would never harm something that he loved. _Never._"

Stunned by the outburst, Izayoi spread her hands in mute appeal. "I didn't mean... I never thought about it that way. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Mai replied, but her voice was strained.

Izayoi looked up to see her looking sideways and down, eyes shining with unshed tears. Something twisted within her, like a muscle long atrophied stirring and returning to life. She placed a hand at her chest and pressed her fingertips into the silk of her _kimono_.

"You miss him," she said, and it was not a question.

"Yes. Don't you?" The tears hovering in the corners of her eyes shivered and spilled down her cheeks, little cascades of burning quicksilver.

Izayoi realized that she was crying too. "More than I can say."

And then, simple as that, there was silence once again.

Mai returned to her bench, and Izayoi sank down in a waterfall of rosy silk to sit on the ground at her feet. The wind was gentle that day, and it played in their loose manes of black and silver hair, teasingly lifting and twining it. It dried the tears off their cheeks, but left marks down their skin where the tears had run.

The next time, it was Mai, surprisingly, who broke the silence. "It's silly, isn't it," she murmured.

Startled, Izayoi pulled herself around to align with the world again. "What?"

"We both loved him, we're both suffering from his loss. We both have our children of his blood. We have so much in common, and yet we hate each other because we think we should. Because the world expects us to be jealous."

Izayoi lowered her head and stared at her hands. She decided to be honest. Why not? "I... don't hate you," she confessed quietly. "I never really have. I just thought you hated me and felt... I don't know. It's complicated."

She could feel Mai's eyes on her and so she did not look up. There was a lot of fear in her, fear of what Mai would say next, or do next, or possibly even fear of what she would _not _do.

"I never hated you, either. All I wanted was my husband back, and it made me angry that you were alive while he was dead. That death was meant for you, it _was _yours, until he went and made it his. I begged him not to go. It hurt me that he did not listen, that he was willing to die for someone other than me. Ah, how petty I must sound!"

"No," Izayoi blurted, astonished. "You don't. Anyone would have felt that way... _I _felt that way. I never asked for his sacrifice."

"I know you did not. He was a very great man, and I know you loved him just as much as I did. I just miss him, that's all." New tears traced the paths of the old down her trembling face.

In a flash of understanding, Izayoi realized that despite her far greater count of years, Mai was relatively young-- about her age, actually. She had always thought of her as a great deal older and wiser, but right now she was only a young, grieving widow with no one but a cold-hearted son to comfort her.

"Mai," she said, leaving off the honorific 'Lady.' "You loved him longer than I... I suppose you have a greater claim to this pain."

Mai laughed humourlessly. "Who would want to claim it?"

"True enough, but... I... what I mean is, could we not bear this pain together? It makes it easier to have companionship, I've heard."

Daring, she looked up and her eyes widened. Mai was staring at her with the most utterly _undone _expression Izayoi had ever seen on her stoic face, her soul naked behind her eyes.

"You would... for _me_..."

Wordlessly, Izayoi opened her arms. Mai slid off the bench and onto the grass before her, then hesitated, conflicted.

There was a line, once. A line that was forbidden to cross. It was a very strange line, in that it also demanded to be crossed at the very same time as it forbade.

"Izayoi, I..."

"Hush." The human woman, so many centuries younger but just as wise, reached out with pale and trembling hands and curved them around Mai's shoulders. "There is nothing to fear. What is there wrong about seeking comfort in what is left? We have lost so much... surely there can be no harm in taking what remains for ourselves."

Nodding silently, Mai laid her silver-golden head down on the pillowy silk of Izayoi's lap and cried all the tears she had wanted to all the past few years and had stopped herself from shedding for the sake of her son. He had needed a composed, present woman to be his mother, and so she had been. He was older now, and stronger. She could afford a little weakness now and then._ Now_, she could.

Cradling Mai, Izayoi wept as well as she stroked shaking fingers through the hair-- like starshine, she thought-- pooled across her knees.

The demon, so very human in her grief, cried her lost one's name into Izayoi, and Izayoi cried it back into her.

On the wind floated Mai's perfume, the selfsame scent Izayoi had smelled on her-- _their_-- beloved's skin as he had loved and worshipped her own skin. It reminded her of him and the grief became a white-hot thing in her belly, twisting and writhing.

Somehow, she knew that Mai had noticed the same thing of her, for her weeping escalated to a wailing and her hands burrowed into the voluminous folds of silk.

Leaning over, Izayoi pressed her face into Mai's hair and inhaled deeply.

She felt slenderstrong arms curl around around her waist.

Her hands moved on their own, sliding slowly down Mai's back, and then back up. She described languid circles in the silk with her fingers and felt Mai arch into them.

An idea whispered into the crevices of her mind. The whisper echoed, reverberated, and was eventually loud enough to reach her consciousness. It sounded like a good one, so she acted on it.

Drawing the hair away from the side of Mai's head, Izayoi traced the delicate arch and point of an ear.

_He _touched her there, like that, whenever he was feeling tender towards her. It was a safe assumption that he had touched Mai there, too.

It seemed she was right, as Mai whimpered and pressed her head into Izayoi's hand.

Emboldened, Izayoi continued her ministration on the one ear while she found the other and started in on it.

Mai raised her head and shuffled forwards to get closer, give better access. Accepting the opportunity, Izayoi trailed her fingers down Mai's face from the emblazoned violet crescent moon on her forehead, over her closed eyes and down to her lips.

Lost in a memory, Mai whispered _his_ name and sighed, tears slowing to a gradual stop beneath her pale lashes.

Experimenting, Izayoi tried another gesture that he had been fond of, sliding her hand down Mai's throat to the pulse point and stroking softly with her thumb. Mai returned with a soft massaging of her shoulders, and they knew it was the beginning of something unnameable and undefinable.

There was a line, once, but they had both forgotten where it lay.

Freed of expectation and fear, they explored each other with gentle fingers, reenacting memory without goal or timeline.

They retraced the steps that his hands had taken on each other, pressed lips where his had gone.

Layer by layer the shields of silk fell away onto the grass, unhurried. The sun had set. Their sons would be sleeping already. There would be no one with searching eyes and needy stomaches coming for them that night.

The moon rose.

They pressed against each other, searching the curves and crannies of each other in search of traces of _him_. Wherever they found anything, they touched and caressed and remembered. It was simultaneously enough and not quite enough. It still wasn't _him_, but it was good and comforting.

Holding tight to each other's hair with fisted hands, they scoured every inch of flesh they could reach with tongues, lips, teeth, drinking in the scents they knew secondhand from someone else's flesh.

Because they had no end in mind, it came a complete surprise when they climaxed, rocking frantically against each other on a puddle of discarded silk.

It was the first pleasure either of them had had in a crushingly long time, and they savoured it in silence, thanking each other with tender flesh and gentle touch.

In _his _absence, they would find what joy they could in each other. There was no guilt, and that was right and correct. There should not have been, so it was good that there wasn't. Why should it be wrong when they had already had so much taken from them? Surely it was all right that they have this small solace in the face of overwhelming grief.

Surely so.

When they were spent, they folded themselves in mangled fabric and staggered back to a room... Mai's or Izayoi's, they weren't sure because the moonlight outside was blinding them. Curled around each other, they fell asleep and dreamed of a demon lord with flashing eyes and a ready smile, a man whose passion had left them bereft and stumbling at his absence.

They missed him still, but it was not so bad if they could find memories of him in the secret shadowed places of each other's bodies. It was... endurable.

And that was enough.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

**A/N:** ...I think this is one of my new favourite pairings. They're yummy. ;:pets:;

Let me know what you think... I suspect it may be utter crap because I may not be entirely coherent right now. Meh. Concrit good. Flaming also good because I have this bag of marshmallows, but I'm too lazy to build a campfire.


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